"Men have become tools of their tools"

creative

We walked into school late, as usual. I had an orange hand-held Donkey Kong game with a big crack in it my mom got from the dump. I could play it for hours at night in my sleeping bag and flashlight when no one was looking and I had the night before. With wide open eyes covered in frost, feeling the air slamming around them I ran from the car. A tattered brown paper lunch bag, smelling of tofu sandwiches from the previous week and stale corn chips tore and crunched in my left hand, trying to stay with me.

Numbers, colors, painting, blocks, a story about cows or tractors or airplanes. My feet dug themselves into the floor as I craned my neck to check the clock. 8:30. My navy blue padded cloth boots had a 3” tear on the left side. It was my secret weapon to ensure I put them on the correct feet. I examined it for 15 minutes. Then a song - I mumbled and lip synced along nervously.

The curtains opened and it was time. Ezra went first. New soccer ball, new cleats, new shoes - curly hair and dimples. Blond Abby - some ugly doll which cried. Jeff got a Patriots starter jacket. His thin black hair stuck to his scalp while his wild blue eyes jumped around.

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Jacob is an engineer, trainer and speaker. He's been building open source software for over a decade - much of it with Drupal. Mostly he likes laughing, traveling and watching people "get it". He loves you.About | Contact | Twitter | LinkedIn